


5 times Steve catches Billy staring (+ 1 bonus)

by harrys1994



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: BAMF Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, M/M, Pre-Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Protective Steve Harrington, Staring, a lot of smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2020-08-11 08:35:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20150722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrys1994/pseuds/harrys1994
Summary: nothing is making sense help





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Steve catches Billy Hargrove staring at him is only three hours after Billy arrived at school. 

By now, every teenager at the school (and perhaps even the teachers) had heard that there was a new stud in town. Tommy H. had been whining to Steve about him all morning, even though they weren't even friends anymore. He kept on going on about how there was gonna be a new King, trying to get a rise out of Steve who had just slammed his locker door in Tommy's face. Tommy finally gave up and stumbled to his new class. 

As he was actually not done putting away his books, Steve opened his locker again with a sigh when the sound of someone being slammed against a locker caught his attention. Down the hall, the new guy had a freshman up against the wall, the kid's feet dangling in the air below him. Steve saw him sneer something in the kid's face and an anger boiled up in Steve's stomach immediately. 

He wasn't gonna let another kid put up with monsters anymore. Fuck that shit. Not anymore. 

"Hey!" Steve yelled, his voice nearly echoing through the hallway. All eyes that were focused on the small fight now snapped to Steve, who quickly shoved his shit inside the locker and pushed it closed. The new guy's glare was burning on his skin, a slow, wide grin appearing on his face at the attention. "Let him go, asshole," Steve ordered, leaning against his now closed locker, arms crossed. He knew that coming closer would only satisfy the guy, who was obviously looking for a fight. 

"Well, well, well, is that the famous King Steve I've been hearing so much about?" Steve couldn't help but roll his eyes at the words. 

"Just let him go man, put him down." 

"Is that an order, King Steve?" Steve's fists balled involuntarily at the words, the guy's eyes flicking down and back up, his creepy smile widening at the reaction. 

"Put him down, dickhead." Steve just said, frowning at the guy. Steve could see the twinkle of anger in the guy's blue eyes, not breaking the eye contact.

"It's Billy, Billy Hargrove actually. But thanks!" Without looking anywhere but Steve, Billy, apparently, let's go of the kid who instantly falls to the ground and crawls away as far as possible. 

Billy's body turns to Steve, his focus on nothing else but him. 

"Alright, show's over." Steve raises his voice sightly as he looks around, students immediately leaving to go to their classes. 

When Steve looks back, Billy is still staring at him, the smile long forgotten and replaced by a frown. Steve's unsure what to do or say, as the guy just _keeps fucking looking at him_.

"Go to class, Hargrove." He just says, now uncomfortable by the blue eyes. Steve turns around and walks to his class, which is not even in that direction but he didn't want to have to pass by Billy, not sure of that he would pull.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Steve mutters to himself, a weird energy running through his veins at that just happened. "What the fuck?"

He runs his hands over his face and into his hair before entering the already full, classroom, quickly apologizing to the teacher who had already started. Only two seats were left, all the way in the back. Steve plopped down in relief, quickly asking the girl in front of him for a pen and paper as he hadn't really wanted to open that stupid ass locker _again_ in front of Billy.

Hargrove.

Whatever.

A shaky sigh leaves his lips, running a hand through his hair as he writes down the date and the title of the book they're reading. He sticks out his tongue a little bit, a dumb habit he's had for years now whenever he's trying to concentrate on something, when the sound of the classroom door being opened makes his head shoot up. 

Billy walks in confidently, says something to the teacher that Steve doesn't even register as Billy's eyes land on Steve once again. Steve's fucking tongue is still peeking out the side of his lips slightly when Billy plops down in the only empty seat left. Steve knows his eyes are wide and he looks like a fucking moron, and quickly shuts his mouth, blinks and doesn't look in the direction of Billy again for the next 50 minutes. 

Billy's eyes are on him the whole fucking time as he literally feels them burn on his skin. 

When the bell finally rings and everyone almost runs out of the classroom to go home, Steve stands up hesitantly with Billy looming behind him and walks straight to his car, the long haired boy following closely behind him all the way up to his Beemer. 

When Steve grabs for the doorhandle of his car, he finally looks at Billy, who now has a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, a smirk on his face as he walks backwards to his Camaro.

_"We're gonna have a lot of fun together, pretty boy." _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing is making sense help

_"You were moving your feet, plant them next time."_

Billy Hargrove's voice was running through Steve's mind as he was getting dressed after practice. He'd been a dick, committing fouls left and right, knowing he'd get away with it.

Steve had thought for a tiny second that Hargrove was actually going to help him get up. He'd reached out for Steve, told him to plant his feet and had dropped him back down. Practices had been slightly better after that, Steve actually used the advice and hadn't been face-planting the floor as much as he used to.

_Plant your fucking feet, Harrington._

Steve balled his fists at the words constantly ringing through his head. It'd been happening since Billy had nearly crowded him against his Beemer and said, 'We're gonna have a lot of fun together, pretty boy.'. He'd be in his car, driving home and attempting to listen to some music to distract his brain, when Billy's voice would echo in his head. 

_Pretty boy._

"Shut the fuck up." Steve mumbled to himself, his voice barely a whisper. The locker room was empty, everyone dying to get out of school and enjoy the last bit of sunshine, now that the sun didn't set at 5:30. Steve grabbed his bag, making his way over to the Beemer and getting in with a sigh. The parking lot was deserted as far as he was aware, sunlight having warmed the leather in his car. Steve shook off his jacket, throwing it in the back and turned on his car radio, the last notes of Bohemian Rhapsody filling the silence. 

Overall, things had been good the past couple of weeks. No sign of monsters with opening faces and rows of teeth. His parents had been gone for two weeks now, allowing Steve to do whatever the fuck he wanted at home, not that there was a lot to do anyway. 

It did mean that he didn't have to worry about going to sleep as much as he would if they were home. He'd been having horrible nightmares ever since he crawled in bed after a night of fearing for his life, swinging at monsters with a nailed bat that had been shoved in his hands in a hope it would save them all from potentially dying. Some nights, Steve would wake up because of the noise his own screams made, sheets soaked with sweat and hands shaking. 

Ergo, Steve wasn't sleeping. At all. It was slowing him down in classes and making his basketball practices worse, Hargrove obviously picking up Steve's nonchalant passes and loving the fact that he had something to give Steve shit about. 

A heavy sigh left Steve's lips, head lulling back against his seat. He wasn't ready to go home, wasn't ready to go back to the silence. He didn't want to be alone. Not anymore. 

Then something caught his eye. Having thought everyone had already left, Steve hadn't really bothered looking around. But there Billy Hargrove stood, leaning against the side of his Camaro with another one of his cigarettes hanging from his lips, looking at Steve with no shame. Steve felt pinned by his gaze, just sitting there and staring back. Billy slowly pushed himself away from the car and made his way towards Steve with a slow, annoyingly confident stride. 

The sun was making his dirty-blonde curls shine a new color, blue eyes focused on Steve as he got close. Steve wondered, for a split second, if that was how Billy's hair always used to shine in California. 

"Harrington," Billy spoke as he stopped at the driver's seat, one hand leaning against the top op Steve's car, the other flicking ashes off his cigarette and taking new drags. 

"Hargrove," Steve answered, an unsure look on his face. 

"You were lagging today," Steve immediately rolled his eyes at Billy's words, really not in the mood to get a scolding or just an attitude from Billy. 

"Fuck off," Steve muttered, a hand running through his hair, Billy's chuckle making him look up again. Steve frowned at the clearness of Billy's blue eyes, his fists balling at the sight. _Fuck_.

Silence fell between them, and Steve decided that two could play this game, so he just looked at Billy and waited. Waited for him to talk, or to move, or just do anything at all that meant that Steve could leave, could get away from Billy's gaze. 

When after nearly _two fucking minutes_, Steve realized that was not going to happen, he turned on the ignition of his car. The sound clearly startled Billy, who took his hand off of it as if he just got burned. 

"I think you've got a sister to pick up, Hargrove." Steve spoke matter-of-factly and Billy's eyes widened. 

"Shit," He cursed, hand reaching for the key to his car. "How do you even know that, pretty boy?" Amusement glistered in his eyes at his last words, obviously aware of how it'd been fucking with Steve's mind. 

With Billy now away from him, Steve drove out of the parking lot as fast as possible, tires screeching at the turns. 

"Fuck!" Steve yelled, hands hitting the steering wheel in frustration. "What the fuck?" There was an anger running through Steve's veins even though nothing really happened, it was driving Steve absolutely crazy. This anger had been coming up only around Billy, and Steve had to shake that shit off. 

"Fucking Hargrove." Steve mumbled, frown deep and knuckles now turning white on the steering wheel.

_"Billy fucking Hargrove."_


	3. Chapter 3

It was Friday. Two more hours before class ended and Steve was sat on a bench outside, sunglasses perched on his nose as he struggled with the book in front of him. His current class had been cancelled due to illness from the teacher and he'd decided to actually try to be ahead of his English Literature class instead of barely keeping up with it. Therefore, Steve was now cursing to himself about this annoying rich guy Gatsby and his obsession with this Daisy chick. 

He couldn't help but feel uneasy at the slight resemblance he felt between him and Gatsby and Daisy and Nancy. Gatsby seemed to attempt to do anything just to get her attention, her affection. It's _bullshit, _he thought, his grip on the paperback tightening. 

"Fuck this," he muttered, slamming the book shut in frustration. A nervous hand tucked the hair that fell in front of his eyes behind his ear, the other one automatically coming up to his mouth to bite on his nails in nervosity. The sudden feeling of being watched dawned on him, snapping his head to the right where, indeed, Billy Hargrove was leaning against a table, lighting a cigarette with his gaze set on Steve. 

For some reason, the only way Steve seemed to be able to reacting to that was by blinking too many times for it to be normal, shrugging but more seeming like his arms were doing their own thing and nervously running his hand through his hair, _again_. 

Billy couldn't help but smirk at the reaction he'd gotten out of the older boy by literally not doing anything except looking at him. A (Billy would never admit to it being a giggle), but a _giggle _left Billy's lips before he started walking over to where Steve was sitting, casually dropping himself next to him, maybe a _little_ bit too close, but he also wouldn't ever admit to that. 

"Harrington," Billy acknowledged, a frown formed between Steve's eyebrows for a split second, before he nodded and mumbled an unsure "Hargrove," back. 

"What are you reading, pretty boy?" Billy asked, blowing a bit of smoke at Steve. 

"You know you can't smoke here right?" Steve answered, ignoring his question. "Want a hit?" Billy offered. Steve shrugged, normally this time before taking a long drag from the cigarette. 

"It's The Great Gatsby." Steve spoke, handing the cigarette back to Billy. 

"That's a good one," Billy spoke honestly, noting how Steve scrunch his nose at his words. 

"You've read it?" Billy was the one to shrug this time. "You're not supposed to read it until next year?"

"What? I like to read. You don't?" Steve shook his head frantically. 

"It's all just a bunch of blurry letters to me." 

"Then get glasses? Weirdo." They shared the rest of the cigarette, the nicotine having calmed down the frustrations Steve was feeling earlier. 

"No I mean, the letters, they sometimes get all fumbled up? Like the sentences don't make sense. It's weird. Makes it hard to actually get into the story." Billy frowned at Steve's words, trying to look past the sunglasses and see the look in Steve's eyes, not sure if he was aware of what what he had said, meant. 

"Harrington, I think you're dyslexic." Steve's head shot up at that, a deeper frown forming behind his glasses; "What?" 

"Dyslexia?" Billy starts, turning his body more towards Steve, knowing this was probably not a fun thing to have to hear. "It's a learning disorder, I guess maybe a reading disorder." Redness filled Steve's cheeks, Billy unsure of whether it was shame or anger. 

"I don't have a disorder. Fuck off." Steve was getting fidgety again, biting on his nails as Billy's eyes scanned his face. 

"It's not a big deal, dude. Lots of people have it. It doesn't make you dumb."

"Good. Cause I'm not fucking dumb." Steve snapped, his intelligence obviously a sore spot. "I don't have a disorder." Billy shrugged.

"I'm not a doctor, I just recognized want you said. Pretty sure Maxine has it as well." 

"Maxine?" Steve asked, the whole dyslexia thing suddenly forgotten. 

"Yeah? My sister?" 

"Max? The redhead?" Billy nodded again, confused by the "huh" that came out of Steve's mouth after that. 

Billy was about to speak when a screech was heard from across the field. Their heads both snapped in the direction, a chuckle leaving Steve's lips at the sight of the curly haired kid he sometimes saw hanging around Steve. 

"Hey! You get the hell away from him! He has a bat! It has nails!" The teenager screeched as he ran up to them, pulling Steve away from Billy. 

"Who are you?" Billy asked in amusement, which only seemed to trigger the kid even more. 

"I am Dustin Henderson and you should stay the hell away from Steve! He has a bat!" The kid seemed as if he'd gone mental, Steve attempting to hide his amusement at the kid's behavior as well, a fond smile not holding back. 

"I'm well aware that he's got a bat now, kid. With nails!" The kid groaned in disbelief, eyes angrily looking between him and Steve. 

"Alright, this is my cue to leave. See you Harrington," 

"Bye Hargrove," Steve answered, getting bombarded with questions by the Henderson kid the second Billy turned his back. 

"Hargrove? Steve, that psycho beat you to a pulp! Do you need me to get the polaroids we took to remind you of how bad it was? Why are you talking to him!" 

"Calm down, man. He's pretty cool." 

"Pretty cool? I-..." A smirk appeared on Billy's face at Steve's words. 

_Pretty fucking cool._

**Author's Note:**

> leave a kudo or a comment :)))


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